


Clair de lune

by Rosebudwhite



Series: Benedict and She [1]
Category: Benedict Cumberbatch - Fandom, British Actor RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-20 03:22:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1494688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosebudwhite/pseuds/Rosebudwhite





	Clair de lune

The taxi pulled up outside the hotel and she paid the driver as a doorman opened her door. “Any luggage?”

“Just the one bag.”

She handed over her dark red leather holdall to the man before ascending the steps to the entrance.

Stepping over the threshold, she paused in awe. She was born to be in rooms like this. The vast vaulted ceiling, the gilded arches, and the gentry taking their lives at the steady, relaxed pace of people who did not need to earn their money.

She checked into the room and with the knowledge that it would be several hours before he would be released from his prior engagement, so set about preparing herself for the night ahead.

_____

The bar was dark, all but one of the patrons having retired for the night. He was there, alone at a table. Two crystal tumblers sat on the table in front of him, a shot of whiskey in each.

She checked her lipstick in the mirror over the bar once more before sauntering towards him, her hips swaying to an unheard melody. Her lipstick was red, her high-heeled shoes were red, and the form fitting floor length dress, she had designed herself, was red.

Today Benedict’s hair was black and wavy; he was not in any hurry to change it back to its natural state, for he knew she liked it like that. His three-piece suit, that fitted his form to perfection, was black, and the bowtie that hung loose around his neck was black. She felt a pang of disappointment when she spied it, for she would not have the satisfaction of being able to undo it herself.

She lowered herself into the chair opposite him, his eyes flicked up and the briefest of smiles crossed his bow shaped lips.

“I thought I would be drinking alone tonight.” His deep baritone echoed around the silent room.

“How could I disappoint you?”

He picked up his glass and took a gulp before remarking, “I’m afraid the bar was closing so I took the liberty of getting you one as well.”

She lifted the other glass and took in its peaty scent, it was not a drink she enjoyed. “I’ll drink it, but you’ll have to make it up to me.”

Benedict smirked, they both knew how little a chore that would be. “What penance must I endure tonight?”

She glanced around the empty room before her eyes fell on the grand piano. “Play for me.”

He snorted, “I cannot play.”

“I know you know one tune.”

“Three bars of one tune.”

“It’s enough; play Clair de Lune for me.” She stood and made her way towards the beautifully crafted instrument. She ran her fingers across the smooth wooden edge before pulling the stool out for him.

Laughing to himself, Benedict downed the rest of his drink, before joining her and taking the proffered seat in front of the keyboard. She lent on the edge of the grand instrument as she watched him rest his fingers on the keys. Her breath caught as he closed his eyes and tried to remember the notes. He got as far as the first three before she gave into her desires and placed herself on his knee.

“I certainly cannot play the piano with you there.”

“Then play me.” Her voice purred with a seductive edge she did not think she possessed.

“You are a wicked woman.”

“And that’s why you like me. So play me.” Her hands reached into her hair and pulled on the Kirby grips holding it in its high French knot. Her dark curls tumbled down over her shoulders, and with the briefest of shakes, she knew she had him.

He did not speak at first. His green eyes roamed over her hair, his fingers absentmindedly brushing a few stray hairs from her face.

“You are an exquisite instrument. Up here,” his index finger traced the side of her face, “here are where the notes begin, your mind is the secret to your music. And you make such sweet music, when your mind is in key.” He bent his head into hers and with the briefest of motions kissed her forehead. “I need to remember to keep you in tune, or you will fail me.” He kissed the end of her nose and then her lips. Before she had a chance to return the kiss, his lips had moved on.

They now travelled down her neck, kissing and licking in small swift motions, all the while, his voice did not stop, and she was not going to stop it. “Your throat, your shoulders, they hold your body in line. They pull you taut, they give you shape.”

Now his hands joined in. They swept over her hips, dipping over her waist, brushing over her plump stomach. She took a sharp intake of breath and pulled her stomach up, in embarrassment. She knew she was no stick thin model. The action only bought a chastisement in her ear. “Do not deny me your curves. The way you bow here, curve there,” his fingers tracing patterns over her abdomen, “make you beautiful. You flow, like that piano, without those curves you could be shallow and lifeless.”

She relaxed as his fingers continued their massage of her.

“You are even more beautiful in the knowledge that with the right pair of hands, in my hands, your body can transcend into ecstasy.” His hands began to pull on her dress, raising it higher and higher on her legs.

“Here?” She squeaked. She had not anticipated this, she had expected them to at least make it back to the hotel room.

“Who’s going to see us?” Before she had a chance to answer, her dress was round her waist and he discovered her lack of underwear. His deep voice growled into her ear, “And you were not prepared for this eventuality then?”

Without waiting for an answer he swung her leg over so that she sat astride him, their faces mere inches apart. She could now feel his excitement building, his cock bulging beneath his trousers, straining to be released. She in turn realised she was probably ruining his suit with her own wetness. A brief smile crossed his lips as his fingers returned their journey over her thighs.

Benedict’s long fingers, which should be ideal for playing the piano, now found keys of their own to play. The soft skin at the top of her thighs, the warm inviting slit, the deep hidden keys, the ones that would make her sing. He encircled and probed, stroked and thrusted; until she threw her head back and cried out his name, begging for release. She gripped his shoulders to stop herself falling back onto the exposed piano.

“Hmmm, I must be playing all the right notes.” He quipped. All she could do was moan and beg for fulfillment. What he granted her was access to his zipper. With Benedict holding her hips she released his hard cock from his pants, smiling at the sight, and shivering with anticipation of him filling and and stretching her.

She used gravity to push herself onto him, slowly and deliberately. Benedict could only moan in frustration as she had done with his teasing. Yet once seated to the hilt her resolve faultered and realised she needed the friction if she was to peak. Rising back up she used her hips to begin rocking up and down on him, gaining speed and building her orgasm back to tipping point. A grunt from Benedict below her and she realised she was not the only one needing release.

“Play me til I come.” She whispered in his ear. He didn’t need telling twice. Gripping her hips he thrust up into her as she bounced down. Their collisions sent shock waves through her and she knew it was only a matter of several more thrusts.

“Crap, I’m going to come.” The hint of panic in Benedict’s voice, and the elusiveness of her own orgasm, she thrust down harder and clenched his cock with her pussy walls, willing herself to come. As she felt his first spurts, her own body responded by finally giving in. Her orgasm rolled over her, a tingle travelled from her pulsing core to the ends of her fingers and toes.

Their foreheads touched as each tried to regain their breath. After a few moments Benedict bent his head back into the hollow of her neck and planted several kisses on her glistening skin.

As she purred with contentment, he whispered, “Do you think we’ll manage an encore?”

She smiled and kissed the top of his head. “Let’s take this upstairs and I’ll happily work you up to a standing ovation.”


End file.
